


In Wounded Hearts

by Jadynof9



Category: Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Anger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Family, Grief/Mourning, Love, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25251796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadynof9/pseuds/Jadynof9
Summary: Seven dreams of times past with Icheb, but is left with a burning question. Together Raffi and Seven open the Pandora's Box of their experiences with their sons.
Relationships: Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine
Comments: 18
Kudos: 21





	1. The Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I have written in 10-15 years, so I beg patience as I see what I've still got in the ol' belfry!
> 
> This was a bit of a cathartic piece for me, which made it easier to dive into in a way. The show touches on on Seven carrying guilt for at the very least deaths seen in the season, deaths which on some level can be justified in some sense. Based on her conversation with Rios in the finale, I started wondering how she handled losing Icheb. If she handled it at all.
> 
> Thus this fic was born.

The images came rapidly, passing in a blur yet still being experienced with crystalline clarity. There was a strange duality that only comes with the dreaming: does one live the dream or simply witness it as a spectator? Seven couldn’t tell. She seemed to float back and forth between the two perspectives, never aware of the shift until the next one occurred.

...

“Fun will now commence.”

It should have been seamless. It was efficient, allowing for optimal development, a full range and experience of all they would need to survive the bizarre experience that was humanity. Why, then, did Icheb seem determined to fight her at every turn? Seven took in his defiant gaze, feeling her own growing frustration radiate from those eyes. Why did she volunteer for this task in the first place? _Clearly I had fallen prey to some…human sentimentality_. One more retort. One more aggrieved sigh. One more thought of turning this trying task over to someone more suitable, someone more able to manage the chaos and disorder that seemed to be the entire characterization of human adolescence.

And yet.

On occasion, there would be a slight smirk from Icheb. A slight tilt of the head, speaking volumes to her in an honest and efficient way that human speech had yet to achieve. There was a slight disturbance in her chest, unfamiliar enough that she considered consulting with the Doctor, yet not altogether unpleasant. She pondered the experience, later deciding that more data would help her reach a more solid conclusion. Upon reaching the decision, she experienced less trepidation than anticipated. She was not yet in tune enough with her heart to hear its gentle whisper: _Resistance is futile._

...

Seven smiles smugly, the slightest raising of her brow highlighting the pride in her eyes as Icheb explains his experiment to B’Elanna. Only those who knew her well could see it written in every line of her stance, the subtlety that transformed her from critical instructor to – _dare she think it? –_ proud mother.

“We’ve made contact with his parents.”

Her stomach drops, the whirlwind of emotions leaking out in twitches and microscopic shifts across her face. Can she recognize them because the face she sees is her own, or because she feels them still, hearing those words spoken gently, firmly by her captain? She isn’t certain, especially as the anguish stabs at her heart when she hears the conflicted words leaving her own mouth: “That’s good news.”

…

“I’ll never see you again?”

_I tire of this emotional turbulence_ , she thought grimly as the anguish returned. Responsibility warred with her instincts as an unfamiliar part of her wished to reach out and embrace the boy, phantom memories of being comforted as a child flitting through her mind. A slight bitterness accompanied them, the remembrance of how the hands that had offered that comfort belonged to those whose hubris ultimately led to her assimilation. The thought fortified her, pushing her forward in her task: she would make the responsible choice for this child’s wellbeing, rather than risk repeating history by placing her desires first at his expense. With a steadying breath, she proceeded to provide an overview of the Brunali culture. Answered Icheb’s questions patiently and precisely. Continued as his confusion grew into agitation. Spoke his name as he walked away, feeling a bittersweet sting of familiarity in the last defiant glare he gave her before returning to his regenerative state.

...

“It won’t be easy for him, to give up the luxuries of your ship.”

She watched the much younger Seven facedown the seemingly innocent Brunali couple, both cringing and proud of the fiery defense of Icheb’s wants and needs before the captain’s inevitable dismissal. Unfortunately, she no longer had the advantage of anger and indignance to mask the feelings of doubt and uncertainty she now knew had been roiling deep in the pit of her stomach as she watched herself exit the room. That there was a desire to keep him near her, that much was obvious. But the depth to which, even then, he had burrowed his way into her sense of self? Had brought out a new emotional richness in her still tentative exploration of humanity? She was not able to name the bonding that had occurred, much less ready to properly handle its severing.

Relief flooded as the surroundings faded, allowing her to avoid witnessing the heated debate with the captain that followed.

...

Relief faded, replaced with an onslaught of distress, pain, confusion. She could hear the words as they argued over his cortical node, but somehow was not physically experiencing the actual speaking. Instead she was overwhelmed by the sweat on his brow, the tremors shaking him as his body fought to adapt to the lack of input from the now disengaged node. Allowing him to suffer was not an option. Her own termination was the only logical choice. Why then did Icheb continue to fight her? Why did his pain affect her so? Why did she agree to the operation? Why the agitation and preoccupation as he spent those days recovering in sickbay?

Afterward, the now familiar feeling of warmth and affection flooded her as his eyes opened. As the tears escaped her own eyes, she decided the why did not matter near as much as the reality that he did affect her. It was a reality she found herself no longer fighting, touching her core, as she rested in the acceptance.

...

A reality that she could not ignore, stabbing at her core, as she took in the devastation. Icheb looked up at her with his remaining eye, panting through what must have been debilitating pain. Seeing his suffering was bad enough; recognizing that despite the pain there was a spark of joy in his eye at seeing her undid her.

Quickly evaluating the situation, she knew rationally that there was no hope. Details regarding the degree of damage assaulted her through her optical implant. She ignored all of that, trying to develop an efficient plan of escape. _If I can just get him out of here…_

His strained voice broke through the haze. Seven offered to stay with him. Icheb insisted she leave. Broken, she leaned down, holding him to her. Dying inside, she apologized. Pulling the trigger, she judged herself unworthy and sentenced herself, from that moment on, to a lifetime of misery and suffering. Declaring she would never make this mistake again by never allowing the oversight that came with acceptance, trust, belief, _hope_. Deciding that she would not be allowed the small mercy of death because of the enormity of her crime.

Because of her, Icheb had died.

...

“Seven.”

Seven’s heart skipped a beat, eyes flying open. No longer was Icheb in her arms, her grip reflexively squeezing a phaser handle that was no longer in her hand. She stood and turned toward the voice, trembling with hope and fear. A strangled cry escaped as she saw Icheb standing several feet in front of her, unmarred. She took one tentative step toward him, daring to hope. One more, raising her hand to reach for him…but then a pause, barely a breath, as a sadness crossed his features.

“Seven…why?”


	2. Kintsugi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kintsugi: the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold.
> 
> "The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places"  
> \- Ernest Hemingway
> 
> Significant amount of grief, trauma symptoms, and emotional rawness in this chapter. No graphic depictions, just a very heavy narrative.
> 
> If you are in your own grieving process, or nearing some sort of anniversary of loss, please be aware of this. And if the story does impact you heavily, please be sure to engage in some healthy self-care. Like chocolate. Or puppies. Or reading about Elnor and cats. Just saying.

Seven was sitting upright before her eyes had fully opened, gasping. Raffi started next to her, sleep-addled brain trying to process Seven’s agitated movements. It was almost as if she were searching, gaze darting about frantically, though Raffi couldn’t imagine what for. Wakefulness was crawling to the forefront as she reached out, just missing contact as Seven quickly threw the sheets back and stood from the bed.

“Seven?” Raffi called after her, sitting up. “Honey, what happened?”

Seven had stalked aimlessly for several seconds before decisively moving over to the desk, her hands gripping the back of the chair as she hovered over it. She needed grounding, she needed to shake the image of a wholly unhurt Icheb asking her why. It seemed to echo without fading, repeating in time with her still racing heart. Her eyes closed briefly as she acclimated to the sensation of confused nanoprobes flurrying about within her, detecting distress with no identifiable injury to be found. Then opened them just as quickly since the vivid image of his sad face seemed to be etched on the back of her eyelids. Not for the first time, she cursed her eidetic memory.

Raffi perched at the edge of the bed, simply watching Seven. There had been nightmares before. It was only to be expected given the magnitude of everything Seven, _all_ of them really, had experienced leading up to the faceoff for Coppelius. They had developed a rhythm for managing them after a while, though it had taken time for Seven to allow it: Seven waking with a start, Raffi waking as a shaking hand tentatively reached for her, Seven moving in close as the tidal wave of emotions began to recede, Raffi stroking damp wheaten waves and whispering soothing words of comfort. Eventually, the frequency lessened and Seven began to heal, slowly but surely.

This was different. Raffi wrestled down her desire to run and embrace the clearly distressed woman, trying to manage the hurt of seeing Seven in pain well enough so that she could develop a plan. She racked her brain for any memory or clue as to what could have led to this reaction: recent missions, conversations, arguments, bad food reactions, anything that crossed her mind. Her brow furrowed slightly as she paused her ponderings to examine Seven’s body language. _No…whatever this is, it blind-sided her…she’s just as surprised as I am._

Seven continued to fight her body’s reaction to the dream. _It was just a dream…right?_ Her eyes continued to skip back and forth, reading some invisible text in a desperate attempt to sort out what was happening internally. That “why” not only continued to ring in her head, but grew into something more sinister. Why what? Icheb hadn’t specified. So the dark recesses of her memories did it for him: blame, shame, guilt, everything seemed to be fair game.

“Babe,” Raffi called gently, deliberately making soft noise with her movements to alert Seven of her intent to approach. The last thing she wanted was to spook an incredibly fast, incredibly powerful ex-Borg-turned-Fenris Ranger who was very visibly caught in fight-or-flight mode. “Talk to me, Seven. What’s happening behind those beautiful baby blues, hm?” Raffi hoped the playful tone would cast a line through what appeared to be a very dense fog. There was a microscopic twitch: the barest of nibbles. She shuffled one step closer.

“I…am sorry. I did not mean to disturb you.” Seven cringed internally, the formal speech and monotone a carryover from the early memories that had played out in the dream. Yet she couldn’t deny a comfort in it. Cold formality seemed to offer a respite from the maelstrom that was playing out in every fiber of her being.

The change was not lost on Raffi, and it presented a new situation that she could recognize but hadn’t yet personally encountered. Filing the information away, she began to mentally toy with it as one would a puzzle box: impersonal speech, little inflection, little information offered other than the change itself. Was it a defensive response? Conscious or unconscious? A warning? Or more like a wipe, restarting the system to clear out some kind of disruption?

She turned instead to what she had learned so far about Seven and her story. They had begun sharing more of their pasts together, bit by bit. It was tentative of course, somewhat reminiscent of that first awkward school dance with the “love of your life.” The lighter and happier memories filled the majority of these particular sharings at first. Inevitably, one of those peaceful memories edged into something sharper. Depending on the day, the time, the people around them, the proximity of La Sirena to the nearest gravity well, any number of things…the dance would grow more intimate as they would perhaps venture into those sharper corners and begin to peek at the looming shadows. Seven knew about Raffi’s reputation for intel and conspiracy theories, the role it played in the Romulan evacuation and the resulting debacle with Starfleet as its aftermath. Raffi knew about Seven’s years on Voyager, her journey as a socioemotional toddler of sorts, and how that had shaped her as an individual, marked her with notoriety - though not enough to spare her scorn following the Mars incident. Seven knew about Gabe, enough to piece together that something unpleasant had happened during that personal mission to Freecloud. Raffi knew about Icheb, enough to piece together that he had played a role in Seven’s offering to help at Freecloud. Beyond that…

“No need to apologize. You know I’m here for you.” A slight release in tension, inviting another shuffle forward. “Seems like this round was a bad one.” Tension returned, Raffi held her ground.

“I…” Seven found herself conflicted. There were too many feelings, thoughts, reflexes warring about within her. Closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to drown out the internal noise, she forced her enhanced senses to focus not on her own physical form, but on what she could pick up from the most stable thing in her life right now. Raffi’s steady breathing, her slow and steady pulse, served as the eye of the storm. “I just need a moment…to sort everything. It was,” she trailed off into a deep breath, realizing she couldn’t possibly formulate a coherent description of what she was experiencing. Willing her natural Borg apathy away as best she could, she turned to make eye contact. She hoped, fervently, that it would convey enough.

Raffi’s breath caught, drawn deeply into a myriad of emotions filling Seven’s face. Instinctively she stepped forward, almost unable to resist the overwhelming instinct to comfort. Almost. She paused as Seven visibly tensed, conflict and tension written all over her. Raffi took a deep breath herself, forcing herself to assume a more neutral stance. A few breaths more and Seven’s heightened state relaxed to a mere hypervigilance.

“This wasn’t about the xBs.” It wasn’t a question. Seven had enough wherewithal to be awed at Raffi’s intuition, helping to ground her a bit further.

“No, it wasn’t. Not entirely,” she admitted. Another deep breath as she dared to step away from the lure of Borg indifference. “Just…one, xB.”

Raffi waited for Seven to look her way again, slowly gesturing back to the bed. Seven paused, considering. Her grip on the chair released, her gait stiff as she approached. She sat gingerly on the foot of the bed, leaning gently into Raffi’s side as she sat close. With a weary sigh, she nervously rubbed her thighs with her hands.

“I’ve…told you some about Icheb.” Raffi softly hummed acknowledgement. “This…dream…there were several memories.” She closed her eyes as the tightness in her chest increased. Accompanying the pain was a growing sense of frustration at her inability to proceed. Her voice slipped further into the old monotone, finding it easier to continue that way. “I’m not certain why they came at this time, nor with this intensity. Suffice it to say the emotions were…more than I was prepared to handle.”

Leaning forward slightly, Raffi bent her head to catch Seven’s eye. Blue eyes gazed through a curtain of blond, following Raffi’s gaze toward her outreached hand. Seven closed her eyes, nodding ever so slightly. Gentle fingers wrapped themselves around her metal-laced hand and she marveled at the warmth they brought with them.

“When did he die?”

Her eyes opened quickly, looking up at Raffi’s calm, open expression. “What…why do you ask?”

“Sometimes the body remembers things the brain can’t, for whatever reason,” Raffi continued quietly. “We’ve been pretty busy lately, what with all the running around between Coppelius and Earth, facilitating trade negotiations, saving the galaxy,” she said in her worst exaggerated Picard voice, hoping to draw a lighter reaction. The small smirk she received was another nibble, which she accepted patiently. “With everything going on, I figure there’s a chance that _some_ kind of anniversary may have snuck up on you?”

Seven considered this, chuckling in amazement. “It’s been 14 years.” She shifted her hand in Raffi’s, turning to lace their fingers together, giving it a squeeze. “Have I told you lately how brilliant you are?”

Raffi smiled, puffing her chest in playful arrogance. “I’m probably due a reminder,” she responded, hoping the relief she felt at Seven’s playful, inflective tone returning wasn’t too evident. Seven offered a tentative smile. Raffi allowed the silence and comfort to settle a bit more, debating whether or not to try reeling her in. Instinct was telling her there was something more than unexpected memories at play.

“So…it might help to talk about it? A little? If you want?”

Seven sat stock still. Raffi would’ve believed she had turned into a statue were it not for the ever so slight shifting of Seven’s breathing. As the silence lengthened, Raffi felt her own nerves pick up. Holding her own breath, she eventually opened her mouth to retract the offer.

“It wasn’t the memories that unsettled me,” Seven spoke unexpectedly, leading to Raffi’s mouth closing with an almost comical click. Seven didn’t seem to notice, continuing on. “Though they were certainly far more powerful in their impact than most dreams. The last memory,” her eyes shifted closed as her voice cracked slightly, again forced to face those final images. She squeezed Raffi’s hand gently, trying to force her focus on that touch as she continued, “was the last time I had seen Icheb, before…”

Raffi released Seven’s hand and wrapped the arm around her instead, pulling her closer and shifting to rest her chin on Seven’s shoulder, holding her tightly. The ache in her own heart was sharp, unable to castaway the image of the last time she had seen Gabe. _He may not have died, but part of me certainly did._ She found herself drifting into the question of whether she was seeking to comfort Seven or mute her own longing. Unable, or unwilling, to find the answer, she rubbed Seven’s arm in silent support.

Seven cleared her throat gently, finding strength in Raffi’s presence. “The strange thing was what happened next,” she continued, somewhat shakily. “It wasn’t a memory. Icheb was standing in front of me: tall, healthy, smiling…not like…” she trailed off, then turned her head slightly to look at Raffi. “I can’t…describe how amazing that felt.”

“I might have a good idea,” Raffi offered with a sad smile, the twinge in her heart pulling once more as she remembered the fleeting hope she’d had on Freecloud. Her smile faltered as she saw Seven’s eyes go distant before continuing.

“I started to walk toward him, but he…his eyes. There was a change in his eyes, and then he…asked me why.” Seven’s hand involuntarily went to her chest as the initial pain and panic that had awakened her began to return.

“Why? Why…what?” Raffi probed gently, confused. She leaned back in surprise as Seven gently but firmly tossed off her embrace, standing again from the bed and beginning to pace.

“I don’t know, that was when I woke up.” Seven was raw, anger edging into her voice. Her mind began to buzz with the questions, the demonizing possibilities her fears had offered. “But then who wouldn’t ask the person that killed you why, if given the opportunity?”

Raffi blinked in surprise again. This was not going in any direction she had been expecting. Granted she was still very tired, and emotions were running high for both of them, and no one could really predict a nightmare’s arrival or meaning. Shaking her head to try and get her wits about her, she tried to recall what she had found during her research about the young science officer. There hadn’t been much in the official reports, and surprisingly there had been barely anything more in the unofficial channels. She knew that he had been found with several of his implants removed, ultimately killed by a phaser blast to the chest according to the autopsy. His body had been found after a nearby Federation ship picked up a personalized distress beacon broadcast with a Starfleet signature. The body had been cleaned and arranged meticulously, even for the horrifying damage sustained. There had never been any indication of who activated the beacon or what had led to his death. No group seemed to claim responsibility; in fact, many seemed to do what they could to prove having absolutely no part in the incident. The only thing that seemed to float in the back-alley chatter was that xB’s were to be messed with at your own peril, often with guaranteed loss of life and limb, indicating that whoever they were afraid of was clearly a formidable character.

_Never mess with a mama bear,_ Raffi thought briefly as she watched said character pace.

“Seven, you can’t be held responsible for his death. You weren’t the one who pulled the trigger.” Several emotions traveled across Raffi’s face, the chief being confusion, as Seven froze at her words. “Or, maybe you were, in which case at the risk of sounding insensitive, I have no clue how to proceed here.” Seven didn’t move at first. Raffi waited patiently, or at least was trying her hardest to appear that way. Eventually, Seven stood upright, hands clasped behind her back, looking for all the world like she was preparing to give a status report. Raffi swore she could hear the internal “shields up!” in the sigh that accompanied the stance.

“Icheb was helping out with the Rangers while on leave from the Coleman. While off on a mission, he had been set up. He believed he was responding to a distress call and instead was ambushed, taken to a facility where they harvested Borg tech from xB’s. By the time I had discovered what had happened and where he was taken, considerable damage had been done. We would not have been able to obtain the necessary medical care in time for him to survive his injuries. I offered to stay, so that he would not be alone…but he insisted, and…” Seven’s eyes closed tightly, finishing her account through gritted teeth. No number of mental or emotional shielding could block the agony. “I couldn’t leave him to suffer.”

Raffi threw caution to the wind, taking the few steps to close the gap between them and wrap her arms around the trembling figure before her. Recognizing that there were always shadows of something darker haunting Seven had been one thing; beginning to learn the extent of the inferno she had walked through released another torrent of thoughts and emotions that defied speech. For her part, Seven felt her composure slipping, the safety that came with Raffi’s arms firmly around her inviting her to let down her guard, to release yet another burden. With a deep shuddering breath, she slowly moved to return the embrace.

_”Seven…why?”_

Her stomach dropped hearing the echo of Icheb’s voice, her hands moving instead to firmly push Raffi away. Fear, guilt, disdain for her own weakness flooded her thoughts. How _dare_ she believe she had any kind of right to warmth, to connection, to _belonging_? A wave of nausea washed through her. Is that why Icheb had appeared so unexpectedly? After all, Seven couldn’t deny that there had been some semblance of peace beginning to blossom in her life, nurtured by this albeit youngling relationship with Raffi. Hadn’t she sworn this off? What pain was waiting for her on the other side of this? What pain might be waiting for Raffi if…

_No._

“Raffi, please,” she whispered, stepping away. She looked up briefly, just long enough to catch the confused and slightly hurt gaze aimed her way. _Appropriate_ , she thought with a stab of guilt, _I seem to bring pain everywhere I go…Borg or human, I can’t seem to win._ Icheb’s question echoed again.

Raffi felt a ghost of panic rise, believing she had overstepped her bounds. She tried to settler herself, recognizing somewhat that her insecurities about Gabe were beginning to emerge, project themselves onto this interaction with Seven. _All this talk of sons…_ “I’m sorry, Seven…you were just…I wanted to…it was kind of an instinct, you know?” she babbled gently.

“You don’t understand,” Seven countered with deepening guilt, crossing her arms in front of her chest, suddenly longing for the Collective apathy. Raffi had done nothing wrong, yet felt the need to apologize? The evidence against her being allowed happiness seemed to be mounting. “Raffi, it was _my fault._ He looked to me for guidance. He sought my approval, called on me for wisdom and experience. Where did that get him?” She laughed bitterly as something seemed to come untied within her. “Me…as if I were any kind of model to follow. Just a broken, piss-poor attempt at a human trying to make up for her own existence. Kid never had a chance.”

As Seven returned to her pacing, Raffi fought back tears. Seven’s self-loathing, the full depth of utter pain threatened to drown her. The hardest part was having no way to respond that wouldn’t sound like trite platitudes, no way to help combat so strong a belief; the feeling of futility was quickly becoming a millstone around her neck. When had she become so helpless? The evacuation, JL, her marriage, her son…was she going to fail Seven, too? She cast about for anything to say, but before she could complete any kind of sentence Seven turned on her.

“No! Raffi, if I hadn’t been involved, he may have had a chance, he may have made a _difference_ in the God-forsaken Federation! He was good, and brilliant, and kind, and Starfleet was lucky to have him. He could have taken his leave to volunteer anywhere, do anything, but he came to the Rangers to be with me. With me! It was his connection to _me_ that that put him in danger. And it was _my_ mistake that got him killed. My choice to believe in that _hope_ he was so full of, my choice to trust Bjayzl…” Seven’s voice cracked again, the knot in her chest threatening to suffocate her as she admitted her deep-seated guilt. “She used me and he paid the price. I tried to be everything he deserved. I tried, _so_ hard, to be the kind of person he could be proud of…and I led him to his death…he deserved so much better, and all he got was me.”

“You aren’t being fair, Seven,” Raffi countered shakily. Her stomach was twisting painfull and her thoughts were a jumbled mess. The accusatory tone in Seven’s voice was rubbing her raw, as she could no longer block out the echoes of her last conversation with Gabe. “You were just trying to do what was best, right? Your work with the Rangers…you were trying to make a difference, no one can fault you for that.” _God, Raff,_ a small part of her thought bitterly to herself. _Who are you talking to right now? When did this become about you?_ Seven, fortunately, appeared oblivious to the struggle, shaking her head at the attempts to assuage her guilt.

“The price was too steep.”

“It was important work. It was important to you, it was important to the people you helped, that matters.” Seven turned toward her, skepticism creeping into her gaze. Raffi blinked hard, seeming to see Gabe’s face glaring at her, sitting in that fertility clinic.

_“Our lives mattered, too. Just not to you.”_

“What could be more important that being there for my own son?”

_“Tell me what was worth ignoring me and dad.”_

Raffi visibly winced, Gabe’s angry words ringing somehow in Seven’s own. How had this turned from trying to console Seven’s heartache into trying to survive her own? “No no, that’s not, I wasn’t trying to…” She closed her eyes and took a deliberate breath, trying desperately to get back on course. “Seven, we make mistakes. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve…losing a son…” she lifted her head, looking into guarded blue but still seeing cold, hardened brown. “I know how hard it can be.”

“Gabe.” Seven’s tone was flat, her body still, but thrumming with tension. Raffi nodded, uncertain what to make of this sudden change in demeanor. “The son you spoke with at Freecloud.”

“Yes.” Raffi’s voice was a whisper as she watched Seven’s eyes become stormy. She’d stepped in something, but at this point didn’t trust herself to be able to dig back out.

“The son you saw on Freecloud. Who very likely is still on Freecloud awaiting the birth of his daughter. Who you’ve said you’ll likely never get to see again.”

Seven didn’t know where any of this was coming from, honestly. She only knew that a kind of numbing rage had taken over. A small part of her recognized the ache in Raffi’s own eyes, but it was drowned out by the pain and indignance of being told anyone could possibly understand this pain. Especially when _their son still lived._

“Just because you’ve given up, you think you know what it means to lose a son?”

Raffi’s jaw dropped. “I have done what I needed to do, Seven,” she responded in clipped tones. “You don’t know what happened at Freecloud, and you don’t know what happened before. You don’t know what it’s like to have that kind of hatred thrown at you from your own flesh and blood.”

“Hatred?” Seven countered, incredulous. The ire she felt rose with the volume of her response. “You think dealing with him hating you is the same as losing him? The same is him begging you to end his life? Oh yeah, I can definitely see the link there,” this last dripping in sarcasm.

“Watch it, Seven,” Raffi took a step forward, refusing to backdown. If she was angry, she could ignore how deeply she’d been called out. Anger was far preferable to the alternative of reliving the rejection, the harsh realization that Freecloud may very well have been her last chance to ever have a relationship with Gabe. If she could hold on to the thought that her pain deserved acknowledgement, too, she could ignore the part of her that was screaming to stop, to recognize that this was going just as badly as Freecloud, if not worse.

“I don’t know what you did, or what you said, or how badly you fucked things up with Gabe, but he is ALIVE. That means there is a chance, however small. I don’t think you understand –”

_“_ – _just how much it sucked to be your kid.”_

“–that I can NEVER have that chance!” Raffi staggered backward, feeling the impact of both Seven’s and Gabe’s wounded wrath. A few feet away, a shimmering blue began to coalesce.

“Please state the nature of your psychiat–” both women turned, yelling in perfect sync.

“Deactivate EMH!” The startled holo’s hands flew up as he faded right back out of the room.

Raffi began to rub her forehead, taking the brief second the interruption afforded her to try and put words together that weren’t designed to cut deep. The fact that even had to be a consideration further broke something inside of her, but again she shoved the voice away. With a deep sigh, she tried to back the conversation up.

“Seven, I’m just trying to say that I can understand-”

“How can you possibly understand?” Seven interrupting, disdain dripping from her words. Raffi snapped.

“Dammit, Seven, I have to live with the fact that my son wants _nothing_ to do with me! That I have a granddaughter that I will never meet, BECAUSE he wants nothing to do with! Because you’re right. I fucked up.” Raffi threw her arms in the air, a slightly hysterical giggle escaping. She continued in a crescendo, “I fucked up, because that’s apparently what I’m good at, and now I am _dead_ to him. At least Icheb _wanted_ to be with you.”

“ _And that got him killed!”_ Seven screamed, one hand gripping at her chest. Pure rage howled through her. It wasn’t directed at Raffi, she realized distantly; Raffi was just caught in the crossfire. But it didn’t seem to matter. With every breath she seemed hyperaware of her ribs shifting in and out. Her heart pounded fiercely, the resulting pulse rushing in her ears. She _hurt_ , and she didn’t want to hurt anymore, and she wanted everyone else to hurt, too. She felt more fully and uncontrollably human than she ever had before.

And with that realization, she had never wanted so badly to be go back to being Borg before.

“You make a mistake and he walks away, Raffi!” Seven continued, yelling. “He’s out there, somewhere, and you have time dammit! But I make a mistake, and…and he…”

Silence fell. Their labored breathing echoed in the small room. Her anger completely spent in that explosive, unfiltered outburst, Seven was exhausted. With nothing left as a buffer, all the pain washed over her. She collapsed, sobbing, onto the floor. _I can’t do this anymore._

“Leave, Raffi,” she choked out.

Raffi’s heart stopped, she was certain. Fear struck her as she catastrophized in her mind. _No_ , she thought frantically, _no no no I can’t lose her, too._ Part of her cried out, yelling at her to fight, to refuse to give up something that had become so precious to her so quickly. Her mouth worked silently, trying to figure out what to say. Yet at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel that Seven deserved better. Was it really any surprise she messed this up, too? Tears escaped as she screwed her eyes shut, digging deep for any kind of resolve she could muster. At least this time she could try to do right by the one she hurt. Clearing her throat, she spoke softly, “If that’s what you want.” She turned slowly to head toward the door, brand new sorrow eating its way through her chest. The world seemed to fade out around her as she felt herself start to sink back into that cold, unforgiving guilt. As it was, she almost missed it.

“I can’t risk hurting you, too.”

Blinking several times, Raffi paused, almost convinced she had voiced that pleading cry in her own head. Unable to shake it, she turned back around, uncertain if Seven had even realized she’d spoken out loud. She considered how small Seven looked, against the enormity of what she had been through, what she carried with her. When she looked inward, Raffi found a deep, hollowness, a tired ache that seemed to spread through every nerve ending and cloud the very fabric of her reality. This was the reality she had tried to drown out with the drinking and the snakeleaf and the isolation in the desert, the deep loss that seemingly nothing could touch. No one seemed to understand, and how could she possibly explain it? Gently, she walked toward Seven and crouched down in front of her. Reaching ever so slowly, she softly touched the trembling chin, lifted until their eyes met.

Raffi felt the stinging gathering of tears, seeing that same void mirrored in Seven’s eyes.

Settling to her knees next to the shaking xB, she wrapped her arms firmly around Seven, who was trying weakly to resist. Seven had no strength left, having exhausted herself in their heated exchange. It didn’t help that her body appeared to mutiny, longing for this connection that didn’t seem to lessen the pain yet still fulfilled some sort of need she couldn’t name.

“Raffi, you can’t fix this,” she argued tiredly. “You can’t fix _me_ , and I won’t take you down with me.” Raffi simply squeezed tighter.

“I know.” The struggling suddenly stopped. “I know I can’t, and it wouldn’t be fair to try.” Raffi placed a gentle kiss on golden hair before resting her cheek on it. “But I don’t think fixing is what we need. And sometimes, if you can’t pull someone out of the mud, the next best thing you can do is just sit in the mud with them…if they’ll have you?” Raffi felt the trembling form in her arms begin to shake as the tears surged up again, arms wrapping tightly around her waist in response to her offer. “You don’t have to do this alone, Seven,” she whispered hoarsely as her own sobs began. Clinging tightly as if each was the last possible lifeline for the other, Raffi let the sorrow overtake her. All of the pain, festering for the last several months bubbled up and over. Shame and regret blanketed her, the knowledge that in all the ways that mattered, she had done this to herself. Mourning the expansive gulf between herself and Gabe. All the things that she had been running from, hiding in the desert in a substance-induced haze for so many years, were allowed free reign. Because on the other side of all of it, crawling through her own gauntlet of nightmarish regrets, someone could use some company.

Seven held on for dear life, almost screaming through the tears at moments as the flashbacks ripped through her. It felt like insanity, letting the terror run its course, but she had little choice in her exhaustion. Soon she noticed the images lost their physical impact, accompanied instead by the echoes of the crimes she had charged herself with. Every howling reminder of how she had failed and what it had cost. Only Raffi anchored her to the possibility of something more, something beyond the dark isolation and guilt. And so she held on through the mental assault, moment after moment telling herself this was more than she could take. And again, moment after moment, feeling those arms squeeze around her, she would continue to hold on. Until eventually, even her demons had exhausted themselves into silence for the time being.

And so they sat, accepting their own brokenness for the first time. As the intensity lessened, the hum of the ship was distinguishable again, punctuated by the occasional shuddering breath or sniffle. Whispered apologies over harsh and hurtful words were offered and accepted. The embrace became less desperate, relaxing into a tired but firm commitment. Seven wasn’t about to call it peace: with peace came healing, calm, and a space for hope to flourish. But it was a stillness at least, which was already closer to peace than she ever thought she’d achieve, and so she was grateful. Even more, the beautiful, unbelievably resilient woman in her arms was more than she felt she could ever deserve. Humbled, she gave every ounce of energy she could muster – which, granted, was very little in this moment – to simply experiencing the quiet, inside and out.

…

An hour later, emotionally and physically exhausted, the two found themselves still on the floor of their quarters. Raffi was sitting with her back against the foot of the bed, arms comfortably around Seven’s waist as she reclined against her, sitting between Raffi’s legs. Their attempt to reach this position had been comical, both crawling and shuffling across the floor in delirious, tired giggles because they were too tired and shaky to get up and physically get onto the bed, and really there was simply no other appropriate response to be had. Yet here they were in comfortable silence, each left to their own thoughts.

“Seven,” Raffi murmured quietly into the crook of Seven’s neck, followed by a light kiss. Seven’s head, resting back against Raffi’s shoulder, shifted slightly as she hummed, though whether in response to her name or the gentle affections, Raffi wasn’t sure. In either case, she took advantage of the increased access, placing soft kisses on the bared skin, each its own little promise of acceptance and comfort.

“Seven,” she said again as her original thought flitted back into focus. “About your dream,” she started tentatively. “I was thinking. Maybe Icheb wasn’t asking about why he had to die the way he did.” Raffi felt more than saw Seven’s optical implant raise with her brow, their faces barely a hair’s breadth apart. “I mean, this is just a thought, because he doesn’t much seem like the kind of person to lay blame. But what if he was asking about you?”

“What about me?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe…why you were there? Or why you seemed so sad? Or why you were hurting?”

Seven huffed slightly in response, also pulling Raffi’s arms around her more fully, just to show she wasn’t upset by the query. “Wouldn’t make much sense. It’s not as if it were actually Icheb himself asking the question.”

“No?” Raffi asked, taken slightly aback. Seven shrugged slightly, careful not to jar the chin resting on one shoulder.

“You said yourself the body seems to have the ability to remember things that the conscious mind does not. I’d assume that was just the quickest way my subconscious had to get my attention.” _The alternative is just…_ She let the thought drift off, ignoring the flutter in her heart. “I’m fairly certain the last thing I would be asking myself is how I’m doing.”

“Babe, you do remember what JL said about when he…you know…” Raffi shook her head slightly. Yes, it had all turned out in the end, but verbalizing the man’s death was just not something she was able to do. “How he said he saw that old android friend, Data? What had he called it…‘a massively complex quantum simulation’? I don’t think that’s something that falls in the realm of JL’s imaginational wheelhouse.”

Seven appeared thoughtful, poring through complex metaphysical processes as she contemplated the possibility. “I suppose the idea has some merit. But Data was arguably a massively complex synthetic.”

“It was a single neuron, Seven,” Raffi said with an incredulous chuckle. “Honey, do you really think it was just your brain messing with you? Because if that’s the case, we really need to work on you cutting yourself a break once in a while.” Seven offered a slightly self-deprecating smirk in response, which Raffi promptly kissed the corner of. That elicited a genuine, if tired, smile.

“If you intend to take on this particular project, Miss Musiker, you definitely have your work cut out for you.” Seven’s teasing laugh faded as there was no response. She turned to find Raffi’s gaze fixed intently on her, feeling her heart flutter for entirely different reasons now. She watched as Raffi took Seven’s left hand in her own and raised it gently to her lips, placing a firm kiss upon metal and skin, gentle gaze never faltering.

“I’m in, if you are,” Raffi said with more certainty than she’d felt in a long, long time. “Because you deserve it.” She smiled softly as Seven’s eyes began to shimmer with unshed tears. Looking away slightly, she took a deep breath, and then a leap. “We, deserve it,” she finished quietly, looking into those teary blue eyes with shy vulnerability.

“We do,” Seven agreed, her own decision made as well. She turned slightly, reaching up to gently stroke Raffi’s face, sighing as she leaned into the touch. Closing the gap between them, the kiss was tender, full of promise. Just a seed of warmth in what still felt like a gaping void inside of her, maybe even a sprout poking through the ashy aftermath of a terrible blaze, but… _it’s enough._

With one last glance Seven shifted away, standing herself before turning to help Raffi to her feet. Standing before her, Raffi’s brow furrowed slightly. Seven waited, head tilted ever so slightly.

“Not to belabor the point,” Raffi started hesitantly, “but all I’m saying is if he…if Icheb…if it, all happens again…it might be worth it to let it play out.”

Seven looked down, the tightness in her chest returning. Part of her was nervous about falling asleep for precisely that reason, but the level of exhaustion she felt would make fighting sleep unconscionable. She briefly considered opting to regenerate instead…

“I don’t know what he might say,” she whispered, feeling somewhat foolishly like a child afraid of monsters under the bed, that if she spoke too loudly… She looked up again, seeing a familiar ache in Raffi’s eyes.

“I’ve been there,” came the gentle response. “And I’ll be here, for you, when it’s over. No matter the outcome.” Seven’s shoulders relaxed as she gave the briefest of nods. They crawled into bed, the feel of the sheets a sudden sedative as Seven curled herself into Raffi’s side, head pillowed on her shoulder. For all her fear, sleep swept over her in barely a breath’s time. With a last kiss on her still, blond head, Raffi quickly followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember friends, self care. <3
> 
> Last chapter will take a little time, but I do promise it will be a far less draining leg of the journey!
> 
> Comments and processing thoughts always welcome.


	3. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out SO much longer than originally intended! Words just kept coming, and characters in my head kept saying they wanted to contribute, and I couldn't very well ignore them...
> 
> At any rate, all typos/errors/random bright shiny thing moments are mine. Enjoy! <3

Seven had woken peacefully after that sleep, both of them so exhausted they hadn’t shifted from the position they started in. Raffi had woken shortly after, eventually looking down at Seven in silent question. Seven shook her head softly, a conflicted smile crossing her features. No dreams, which was a relief…but also meant no Icheb. Despite her hesitance to believe that somehow, some way, Icheb could actually visit her in her dreams, she couldn’t deny a small desire to be proven wrong. After all, there had been Unimatrix Zero. Chakotay had spoken of visions of his father. And as Raffi had reminded her, Picard had his odd after-death encounter with Data. Was it wrong to hope for a similar chance? An instinctive, still bitter part of her adamantly insisted it would be a grave injustice for her to ever have such a gift. But as Raffi placed a soft kiss on her forehead, wrapping her arms around Seven and squeezing tightly, the dark shadow flitted away for the time being and she sighed in contentment.

When they eventually exited their quarters, realizing they had slept in significantly later than usual due to their eventful night, the rest of the crew seemed tentative around them. Polite, but tentative. It wasn’t until they were approached by Elnor and his youthful devotion to Absolute Candor that they understood why.

“Are both of you well?” he asked with great gravity. Raffi looked over at Seven, whose expression was equally – though far more subtly – as perplexed as her own.

“Is there any reason we shouldn’t be?” Seven questioned levelly, peeking over his shoulder at Soji and Agnes. Soji was suddenly very intently examining the detail of the nearest bulkhead, while Agnes’ frantically looked for anything she could pretend to be interested in before giving up and turning tail, calling out “Cris! Didn’t you have a thing you wanted to show me?”

“You both sounded so angry, and there was much pain in your voices. I was very concerned, because it had been so loud…and then only silence. I thought maybe someone had been knocked unconscious and I called for the EMH, but all he said was that it was not the time for in-butting,” he finished in a slightly pouty tone, looking for all the world like a disappointed puppy. “I was sad, because I very much wanted to help.”

Seven looked slightly abashed, not having considered how much of their argument might have been overheard. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look at Raffi, instead opting to keep her eyes fixed on Elnor until he raised his head and made eye contact. “We are…functional, Elnor. And…I appreciate your concern.” She tilted her head slightly, giving him a half smile. Elnor’s eyes and face lit up.

“Wonderful! Our family ties remain intact! Unless,” his face dropped back into concern. “Unless that is not something you wish?”

Both Raffi and Seven had been visibly surprised by his declaration, unprepared for the onslaught of emotion it elicited. It was an innocent statement, but so very powerful on the heels of their freshly re-opened wounds. They looked at each other briefly, recognizing the warring fear and hope they both were feeling. Raffi took a breath before turning back toward Elnor with a tired smile.

“You’re not gonna be losing your Auntie Raffi anytime soon.” Elnor beamed once again, and Raffi couldn’t help but laugh. “C’mere,” she invited, her arms opening. She staggered back slightly with the speed of Elnor’s hug, Seven’s hand swiftly moving to her back to steady her. When Elnor stepped away, he looked over at Seven, brimming with energy.

“I’d like to hug you now, if that would be welcome.” Raffi tried desperately not to laugh at Elnor’s eagerness and Seven’s raised brow in response, hiding her amused smile behind her hand. Seven sighed in mock resignation before nodding ever so slightly. Even being prepared for his fierce affection, she huffed a little as he knocked the breath from her. There was a sharp, unexpected pain in her heart as a wistful, almost forgotten memory of Icheb arose unbidden. In response, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed with an intensity Elnor hadn’t expected. Pleasantly surprised, he hugged her even tighter in return. Eventually pulling back, Seven held him at arm’s length, clapping his shoulder under her hand to give her a moment to recover her more stoic Ranger persona. Elnor, blissfully oblivious, declared that with his concern relieved he could now proceed with his morning meditation and practically skipped away to his quarters. Seven watched him briefly, shaking her head at his retreating form. When she turned, she found Raffi had been pulled aside a short distance by Rios. He had a tamer version of Elnor’s concerned gaze in his eyes, which lessened as she caught Raffi’s soft reply of, “We’ll be fine, Cris.” Raffi locked eyes with her and smiled.

And in that moment, Seven chose to believe Raffi was right.

…

The next months were uneventful. For about a week following the incident, Seven felt a significant amount of anxiety about falling asleep, both hopeful for and dreading a possible repeat encounter. But every morning that she woke up without a distressing dream ended in an evening that she thought less and less about the possibility. It was helpful that she and Raffi, by some unspoken agreement, had begun to set aside time each day – even if only for a few minutes before falling asleep – to simply sit and be together. Here they shared the more private sides of their lives: the stories previously unspoken, the intimate emotions too intense or too sacred for public consumption, and perhaps most unexpectedly the darker self-doubts and thoughts. They had created a space where the thoughts could simply be spoken and held, because neither was ready yet for hope or light in these dark corners. The shared space allowed them permission to uncover wounds without risking the salt of well-meaning optimism and positivity. And in the mutual acceptance, they began to believe that maybe, _just maybe_ , they could actually heal rather than simply survive.

…

“I told him I would take him anywhere this side of the galaxy to celebrate his graduation from the Academy,” Seven explained as they continued their hike up the steeply inclined slope, briefly realizing she wasn’t certain how they had gotten there.

“And he chose Australia??” Raffi asked with a fair amount of cynicism, following gamely behind Seven. Seven laughed, continuing at a steady pace. _Right, I’m taking her to Icheb’s lookout._ Another brief question of when they had arrived on Earth crossed her mind, but was easily brushed aside in the rising excitement of where they were going.

“He chose Australia. Don’t forget, he was from the Delta Quadrant; Earth held many mysteries in his eyes and…” she blushed slightly, her steps slowing. “He often said that he felt it somehow allowed him to stay connected with me, being human.” A moment of quiet reflection and gratitude as a warm hand gently touched her back, providing silent support. “He had always been so deeply invested in star charts and astrometrics,” she relayed fondly, memories of the two of them in the lab on Voyager playing wistfully through her mind.

“We spoke often of my thoughts about journeying to a planet I had never really considered home before. His interest in the planet of origin of my species was, as with most of his enthusiasm, contagious,” she admitted wryly, picking her pace back up. “When we finally returned to the Alpha quadrant, he leaped full speed into his studies and even more so into exploring his ‘new homeworld.’ He informed me that he had found this wonderful space where he could admire the stars and also the beauty of Earth. He insisted I needed to experience it for myself…and so after his graduation, this is where he brought me.”

Seven felt a sense of deep contentment fill her at the familiar vista, accompanied by a brilliant smile as she heard Raffi gasp behind her. The outcropping of land their current peak rested on overlooked a decent portion of coastline. The summer foliage seemed to glimmer green and gold in the setting sun, the sky beginning to turn to a vibrant canvas of pinks and purples. The ocean waves caught and reflected the sun’s rays all across the horizon, the rhythmic crashing against the shore somehow enhancing the visual experience. Seven took a moment to simply appreciate the view before turning to instead enjoy the child-like wonder of Raffi’s expression. Taking several moments to simply bask in gratitude, she then quietly laid out the blanket and supplies she had brought with them.

“We’ve traveled all across the galaxy, and there are still things so close to home that just…take my breath away,” Raffi declared. Seven chuckled slightly, laying back on the blanket, propped up on her elbows. She patted the space next to her, inviting Raffi to have a seat.

“He learned that in the 20th and 21st centuries there had been a travel route following the coastline referred to as ‘the Great Ocean Road.’ I remember commenting to him about how impractical it seemed to have any kind of transit thoroughfare here, as there were far more efficient ways to get from point A to point B. Fortunately, he took the opportunity to help me understand the more aesthetic benefits of ‘the scenic route’.” She smiled, remembering how patient he had been, how many hours they had simply spent talking. “Neither Icheb nor I could find a way to explain what it was about this particular spot that seemed so…” Seven’s brow furrowed, unable to find the word.

“Magical?” Raffi offered. Seven smiled.

“That would be appropriate, yes. And believe me, we tried.” Her heart warmed at Raffi’s laugh. “We even went so far as to examine various mythologies to find adequate facsimiles for the experience, examining possibilities of genetic-level shared frameworks among biologics that would enhance such a sensory experience,” she rattled off in an intentionally exaggerated tone. Raffi laughed harder. “Eventually Icheb just looked at me and said that it didn’t matter what the explanation was. That for him it was simply a special place that he had wanted to share with someone important to him.” Seven smiled despite the stinging in her eyes. “And that now that he had, it was closer to perfection than he could ever have found with the Collective.” She rested into the silence, letting the song of the tide far below simply carry the memories with it while a single tear escaped. Turning to find Raffi watching her affectionately, she allowed all the emotion inside of her free reign before speaking softly, “Now I, too, have found perfection.”

Seven smiled as Raffi’s lower lip began to quiver slightly, eyes welling with unshed tears. Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the intensity she had initiated, she pushed herself to sit upright, reaching for the nearby wine bottle. As she set to work on the cork, she heard Raffi shuffle behind her slightly, followed by, “Thank you. For sharing this with me, I mean. I almost feel a little like an intruder…this place is so important to you.” Seven shook her head, pouring a glass.

“I would like to think Icheb would approve…” She had turned as she spoke, intending to hand Raffi the glass, only to find she had disappeared. She searched about the small clearing but could find no indication of Raffi’s presence nor any sign of departure. _I didn’t even hear anything move…_

“I would approve indeed.”

Seven froze, her mind completely blank. She no longer could hear the waves, feel the breeze, though she could see evidence of both despite her eyes becoming somewhat unfocused. The only thing solid and certain was her rapidly beating heart. There was a tension in her chest as she debated whether or not to turn toward the direction of the voice, to dare to hope…

“Icheb?” came the raspy whisper; she hardly recognized her own voice. Finally turning her head toward the opening to the clearing, she saw him standing there, smirking at her. She pushed both palms to the ground – _didn’t I have a glass in my hand? –_ to vault herself to her feet. The spectrum of emotions she was experiencing her disoriented as she stared at him, wanting desperately to channel her inner Elnor and grab onto him with abandon, but also fearing… _everything_ , if she allowed herself to do so.

“Last I checked, that was my designation,” he quipped in response. His face became somewhat apologetic. “I’m sorry about our last encounter. I didn’t mean to disturb you so deeply.”

Seven only somewhat heard the words, barely processed them. Finding some unexpected inner source of courage, she slowly stepped closer to him. When he neither reacted nor disappeared, she took another step. Now there was definitely a teasing twinkle in his eye, a slight shift downward of the head. _He always gave me that look when he was holding his tongue…_ She couldn’t help but start to smile in response.

“Seems a bit…pretentious, presuming to have so strong an impact,” she responded, noticing her speech pattern change yet still _feeling_ fully. Even as both of them had grown increasingly accustomed to social norms and interactions among the humans they primarily associated with, their banter often returned to the “voice” of their early days out of the Collective. It gave a sense of familiarity that was comforting, acknowledging a bond they had that only xB’s could understand: like speaking a mother tongue that communicated so much that was otherwise lost in translation. It wasn’t a desire to return to the past; it was integrating their lived experience into their present.

“The evidence appears to be in favor of my argument, Seven. Unless you care to present any to the contrary?” He was smiling fully at her now, eyes bright with glee. Seven gave a smug grin in reply, nodding slightly.

“I will adapt.” Icheb laughed and her heart leapt into her throat. She was standing close enough to touch him now, if she dared reach out, looking up at eyes blue as her own. Her uncertainty crept back in, a tremble in her voice, “Icheb, is it really you?” His expression turned gentle.

“I’m here, Seven.” He stepped forward, pulling her into a gentle bearhug. Seven’s breath caught for a moment, certain she would wake up and this would all be over – _Because this is just a dream, isn’t it? I had a wine glass in my hand. Raffi was here. We were nowhere near Earth._ – and when it didn’t end, she let the tears flow as she grabbed onto Icheb in earnest. Committing every sensation to memory, she inhaled deeply, etching even the salt of her tears into memory engrams, just in case it all ended in the next moment. After several seconds, she could hear Icheb’s voice repeating something over and over. As her mind started to clear, she became aware that she was apologizing: one thought after another spilled from her without conscious awareness. Icheb tried patiently to get her to take a breath.

“Seven…why?” She froze again, anticipating the panicked waking in her and Raffi’s darkened quarters, being ripped from the moment and thrust into confusion and pain. Instead… “Why are you doing this to yourself? You have nothing to apologize to me for.”

Seven looked up, examining his face. She remembered the first time she had seen him following a growth spurt, leaving him tall enough to be able to see over her head, which he teased her about to no end in playfully adolescent fashion. Now she could more clearly read the sadness and hurt in his eyes, the emotion she had barely caught a glimpse of before. Her own heartache deepened, sinking into the feeling that she caused the pain there.

“How can you say that?” she asked shakily, a self-directed anger creeping into her voice. “Icheb, if I had been smarter, if I had been thinking of anything other than myself, you never would’ve…” she looked down, feeling the same stabbing in her chest when she found him at the facility. Her throat tightened as she felt fresh tears threaten to emerge. Again, too many emotions and thoughts raced through her mind, making it impossible to speak. She felt a soft but firm grip take her wrist, leading her somewhere. She followed Icheb’s boots without question, refusing to raise her head. It was almost comforting, not having to make choices at this moment. At the edge of her gaze, she saw his boots turn as he sat on a boulder feature toward the edge of the clearing. He continued to tug gently on her arm, directing her to sit next to him. There was a noticeable height different in the surfaces, placing her at eye level with him when she sat. Looking into his eyes again, she swore she saw that slight sparkle that seemed reserved for her.

“Seven, were you ever able to get me to do something I didn’t want to do?” She chuckled softly.

“I would like to believe I had some level of influence.” Icheb smiled.

“This is true. I always had a strong desire for you to look upon me favorably,” he admitted bashfully. “Regardless, if I had my mind set on something, quite frequently there was little that could be done to alter it.”

Seven gave him a mildly annoyed look, though her eyes showed nothing but affection. “An accurate, if infuriating, analysis.”

“Then why would you try and take responsibility for decisions that weren’t yours? Not only mine, but those of the people who turned on you?”

She tried to consider his argument, attempting to separate herself from the deep sense of anger that felt lodged in her core for so long. Stepping back, in a sense, in order to analyze it, identify its origins. Her anger toward her parents ultimately had been rooted in the belief that they had prioritized their own goals over her well-being. Even if she were to try and give them the benefit of the doubt and believe they thought their research was for the good of the galaxy, she could not excuse inflicting such danger on a child. Her anger toward Icheb’s parents had been similar: valuing their own goals, pursuing their own agenda with a lack of consideration for the impact on him. But hadn’t she done the same? She knew how dangerous the life of a Ranger was. She ignored any of the number of warning signs about Bjayzl’s intentions. She couldn’t seem to see past the experience of being happy and fulfilled, seemingly for the first time in her life.

“I chose to trust her, Icheb. There were indications that she wasn’t what she seemed, looking back, but I ignored them.” She looked toward him again, pleading with her eyes, begging forgiveness with every fiber of her being. “I…felt good, accepted…wanted for something other than novelty or resource.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that! Seven, I first understood how that felt because of you,” he said emphatically, his own body language pleading as strongly as hers, begging for her to share his belief. “Yes, I eventually found a family with my peers. Yes, I eventually found a collective on my ship. Yes, I found a place where I was useful and belonged. But I never would have gotten there without you.” Seven couldn’t deny a sense of relief hearing him describe his life in such a manner. She smiled through her tears, tired.

“I didn’t want you to suffer through my same trials. Those we couldn’t avoid, I at least did not want you to do it…alone, as I had.” Voyager’s crew had tried, admirably, and she would always be grateful for that…but there was only so much they could offer, and so many times that it left her wondering why she persisted.

“And I will forever be grateful to you for that, Seven. But I can honestly tell you, seeing you with the Rangers, I felt some relief. I hoped that it meant that you could finally find the same peace you had helped me experience. You deserved it.”

“Not at that cost,” she fought back, feeling the slightest tinge of guilt for wanting to give in to his words.

“You did nothing wrong, I wish I could help you to see that. Your happiness and my happiness were never mutually exclusive.”

“Perhaps not, but I placed my happiness before your well-being.”

“Seven, what _my_ parents did was wrong. You taught me that, remember? They used me, even if they thought they were doing what was right for their people. I wasn’t given any choice in the matter.” She gave a small smile, remembering the conversation well. Icheb had been so torn about feeling he had let his parents, his entire people, down by being allowed to live. It had broken her heart to see him that way. Looking up at him, she tilted her chin up slightly, acknowledging his point. His smile grew slightly, favoring one side as he prepared to complete his argument. She had missed the easy non-verbal communication between them.

“Seven, the things you chose to do didn’t deprive me of choice. Yes, life as a Ranger is dangerous, but you neither forced it upon me nor refused me the option: you gave me a choice. Or rather, you taught me to be so fiercely independent, everyone’s only option was to let me have my choice!” She let out a surprised laugh, mildly embarrassed; her influence on him in that respect could never be questioned. “You made decisions designed to give you a sense of fulfillment, while also considering the needs and wants of others. You did what you thought was right. You could not have protected me from everything, much less the actions of someone who chose to hurt when all you did was offer love. I _chose_ to follow in your footsteps. Even when you found me…I never regretted that choice.” Seven felt her eyes burn again.

“Dammit, Icheb, will you stop making me cry?” she said with a smile, breaking into her more playful side to try and alleviate the weight of this new, possible reality. “It makes maintaining a sufficiently intimidating Ranger vibe far more challenging.” He chuckled, followed by a sigh.

“You still don’t believe me.” His tone was level, with no accusation, no frustration.

“I’ve carried this for years, Icheb,” she admitted. “I understand what you’re trying to say, but it…it’s just going to take some time.” He seemed to consider this, then nodded definitively.

“Do you remember what you said to me about destiny?” Now it was her turn to chuckle.

“You are an individual. You have the right to determine your own destiny.” Turning to look at him, he gave her a frighteningly accurate approximation of her own face when she knew she was about to win an argument.

“If you could go back, would you have taken that away from me? In order to spare us what followed?”

She looked deeply into his eyes, knowing that he was right. Despite every doubt she had that she had simply followed her parents’ example, despite every argument that she had ultimately set him up for such a grisly end, despite every belief that she had never deserved to have the goodness he had brought to her life in the first place…he was right. She had meant it when she had offered that lesson and comfort. As far as she was concerned, she’d be damned to a far deeper level of hell if she willingly deprived him of that freedom for any reason.

She reached an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close to kiss the top of his head as he rested it on her shoulder. “You’re right,” she spoke into his hair. “I’d never do that to you.”

Resting her head on his, they sat in rich, comfortable silence as the sun continued to set, stars beginning to filter in through the darkening sky. It was true, what she had said; it would likely take a considerable amount of time to silence the voices that haunted her. If they would ever be fully silenced at all. But even the possibility of an alternate truth allowed her a possibility of freedom that she had refused to consider for 14 years. As the mental dust began to settle into a quiet cease-fire, she began to consider again the situation she found herself in. Replaying the conversation through an analytical framework, she could feasibly convince herself that all the arguments presented were things her own subconscious could have worked through, needing only appropriate time and space to do so. Continuing through the analysis, she ignored the pang of disappointment that accompanied that possibility of none of this being real.

“Can I say something that may make you uncomfortable?” Icheb’s voice quietly broke through her musings. She smirked playfully.

“Well if you have already set your mind to it, I believe we’ve established I can’t stop you.” She felt him chuckle slightly, then fall silent. He moved to sit up fully, staring out over the ocean. When she saw the hesitance in his gaze, she found herself rubbing his back gently, instinctively. “Icheb, what’s wrong?” He took a deep, steadying breath.

“You were the best mother I ever could have asked for, and I’m sorry I never told you that before.”

_That_ , Seven thought, stunned, _could not possibly have come from any part of me, subconscious or otherwise._ She still hadn’t spoken, mouth agape, when Icheb looked over at her.

“You deserved that much, and I never communicated it in so many words,” he continued solemnly. “And, since I don’t know if or when I will have this opportunity again, I wanted you to know…that has always been how I felt.”

Seven, still speechless, simply sat, staring. After so much internal turbulence, she was uncertain how to handle the complete stillness that seemed to fill her now. Casting for _anything_ to say, she blinked twice before speaking. “This…this isn’t a dream?” Icheb shrugged sheepishly.

“I have no coherent way of explaining what this is. It’s no Unimatrix Zero…but I don’t believe it is anything so simplistic as a dream either.” Seven’s mind seemed to move through molasses, trying to catch up to the implications.

“But…Raffi…and the wine…and where did you come from then?”

“I’m fairly certain I did just say I have no method of explaining this,”Icheb responded, laughing. “It’s plausible that it is accessible to you through a dream, but…all I can say, or hope really, is that this is something unique to our kind. Much as each drone continued to exist in some way post-mortem through their initial connection to the Collective, perhaps the transition to something not entirely biologic and not entirely synthetic…well, allows me to continue to exist in some manner.”

It was too much. The hope it presented, the possibilities seemed to overwhelm her sensibilities, the logic which continued to try and dismantle what she was hearing.

“Then…I could see you again?” Icheb’s face fell, the disappointment surely mirrored in her own expression.

“I…wish I could say. But I don’t know how this space works. I simply know I had seen you before, and then you were gone. I don’t know that I could report experiencing any kind of passage of time or anything resembling existence outside of this moment. Only that I am very much so experiencing this as real. Which was why I wanted you to know how I felt.”

Feeling far less conflicted than she expected, Seven sat with the weight of this new information. Silent again as she considered her options, she reached her arm around him again to pull him close, resuming their earlier position.

“I suppose, then, it would be prudent of me to take the opportunity to do the same,” she announced with certainty, a certainty that quickly faded as she found herself at a complete lack of words to actually express herself. Frozen and frustrated, she suddenly felt Icheb’s arms wrap around her waist, hugging tightly.

“You already have,” he said, tears audible in his voice. Seven shifted to return the embrace, pulling his head to her chest. They simply held each other as the tension lifted, the strength of their bond seeming to manifest physically in this strange space they currently existed in. No more words were needed, and Seven found herself recognizing that in the far beyond her control, a seed of peace had been planted in the now fertile soil of her wounded heart.

…

Then she jolted, tears still running down her face as she fought to adjust to the sudden feeling of sheets covering her and the much smaller, softer body wrapped in her arms. Said body began to shift, disturbed by the motion but not quite awakened. She sighed, relieved as Raffi seemed to burrow herself further into Seven’s body. The motion was a comfort, allowing Seven to re-orient herself to the real world around her. The tears continued quietly, and she allowed them. There was a fierce ache at having had to leave unexpectedly, the question of whether or not they would ever have such an encounter again, and the lingering question of whether or not it was all real. It was intense, but no longer debilitating, no longer something she found the need to avoid or deny. Tentatively she replayed the memory, almost probing herself in an attempt to elicit a reaction. As the experience neared its conclusion, a sense of urgency seemed to emerge. Seven gently shook Raffi to wake her.

“Raffi? Raff, I need to tell you something.” Raffi grumbled initially in response, slowly shifting herself in order to look up at Seven. As she began to register the tear-streaked face, her brain worked faster, trying hard to shake off the fog of sleep.

“Seven, honey, what’s wrong?” she reached up with both hands, cradling Seven’s face to wipe away the tears with her thumbs. As a smile emerged, Raffi’s heart calmed slightly, and she took the opportunity to lovingly trace the implant that framed Seven’s eye. She wouldn’t normally be quite so bold in her admiration. But being only half awake she gave into the impulse to study its intricacies, how it seemed so perfectly suited for Seven. She also noticed how Seven’s eyes closed at the touch, her face seeming to relax an underlying tension that Raffi only now noticed existed after it was gone. Then Seven’s hands were taking both of hers and she feared she had crossed an unspoken line, the fear bringing her further into full consciousness.

Instead, bright, clear blue eyes locked onto her own. Without breaking her gaze, Seven gently brought one hand to her lips, then the other, tenderly kissing the backs of Raffi’s fingers.

“I love you.”

Raffi gasped quietly, heart skipping a beat. She had never questioned the depths of Seven’s feelings, understanding that she communicated far more by action and gesture; Seven’s non-verbals were _very_ communicative. But she was unprepared for how incredibly different the experience of hearing it spoken aloud would be, finding herself unsure of how to react. Her mind began to race, realizing she should say something, remembering suddenly how she had felt when she had done this very same thing to Picard: _Of course, it wasn’t like I was **in** love with him, so it’s not really the same, because at least I hope she means it differently than I did with JL, but still, saying it and then JL standing there jaw flopping about like a gaping fish and me freaking out that I had freaked **him** out and oh God is that what I look like now and dammit Raffi say something! _She opened her mouth to speak, but found two fingers gently pressing on her lips in silence. Reflexively she kissed them, eyes closing briefly as they shifted to caress her cheek.

“I just…needed you to know,” Seven whispered. She felt a deep calm, despite knowing from the input her optical implant had gathered that she had set the poor woman into a momentary disarray. Her heart warmed with the thought of Icheb smiling at her, wanting to believe that he was proud of her for taking a step further into vulnerability, _into pursuing my own happiness_.

Raffi took in the easy smile, curiosity piquing even through the emotional cloud of fluff her heart seemed to be floating on. Corralling her inner teenager, she squinted her eyes slightly, as if there would be some clue in Seven’s expression. After a few seconds, she noticed a distinct _lack_ of something: that vague, ever-present shadow in her eyes.

“Icheb?” was all she said. Seven’s smiled widened the slightest bit in response. Raffi’s chest felt as if it would burst with joy, happy tears gathering in the corners of her eyes at seeing a light of freedom in Seven’s expression. “Good,” she finally spoke again, voice cracking slightly. “I want to hear all about it. If you want to share, that is,” she added quickly. Seven laughed indulgently before nodding.

“In the morning,” she offered, coaxing Raffi fully against her again, a gentle kiss on her hair as Raffi wriggled into place. “First, more sleep.” Raffi sighed happily, fatigue starting to creep back in despite the excitement. Seven felt herself drifting back into drowsiness as Raffi’s body relaxed, feeling the steady, deep breathing pulling at her hypnotically. Raffi, on the edge of unconsciousness, felt a tiny, mental poke at the back of her mind.

“Seven?” she whispered sleepily.

“Hm?”

“I love you, too.” Raffi heard the heartbeat beneath her ear race briefly in response, lulling her into a peaceful, contented sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you put [these colors](https://pixels.com/featured/sunset-at-twelve-apostles-great-ocean-road-victoria-australia-izzet-noyan-yilmaz.html) with something like [this view](http://nsw.mx5.com.au/events/great-ocean-road-gallivant-2019), that is the Great Ocean Road view I was going for with Icheb’s lookout.
> 
> I based Icheb's height off of Casey King (6'1"), putting a decent bit taller than Seven at Jeri Ryan's 5'8".
> 
> Many thanks for your patience in my inaugural journey back into writing! Comments always appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of a prologue of sorts, picked from a couple different Voyager episodes, to set the scene. Still cleaning up the second chapter, but it should be up soon. Feedback/comments welcome!


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